


To His Lasts

by tcwordsmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:12:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loves Sam with every breath in his body, and Cas with all the blood in his veins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To His Lasts

Dean loves Cas. Loves him so goddamn much; but it takes him a while to get it. It wasn’t easy, growin’ up John’s oldest son.  There were always expectations and rules; there is still a goddamn code to keep to. And Dean keeps it vest close and skin near.  Protect Sammy. Shoot first, ask questions later. Gank anything that ain’t human. Gank anything that wants to hurt Sammy. Love Sammy. Let Sammy be a kid as long as possible. (That last one is Dean’s code, but he keeps it just as well.)  There’s no room in there for what John wants for Dean.  And Dean…Dean just wants to keep the code.

He never told Cassie he loved her, never said it to Lisa either. Told Ben he was proud of him a couple of times, but never said he loved the kid.  Maybe he shoulda. But all his I love yous were stitched into his baby brother’s skin, smoothed into the gauze wrapped around his most recent wounds.   He thought maybe Ben felt love from him when he wrapped the kid’s ankle after he twisted it playing baseball.  Sometimes he’d start to tell Lisa, because when you live with someone, when you share their bed, their kid, and their life, you probably ought to love them, but she’d smooth her fingers against his lips and tell him not to say things he can’t mean.  So he stops saying it and just tries to show it; he fixes the squeaky steps and the leaky pipes, makes sure the lawn is smooth and neat, makes eggs and toast every morning.

Cas doesn’t fit, he decides about three months into his tour in Purgatory. He hacks through a vamp, sends a mutt at Benny and pins down another vamp; he watches Benny come through like he does every single time.  “Angel,” he barks. The vamp isn’t stupid, knows either way it’s dead so it gives up what it knows in hopes of a quick death.  Every single thing he’s come across has called the angel his. Not “the angel,” like Dean says, but _his_ angel.  And, hell, they were all inside Cas at one point or another, Dean knows that, can see traces of him in them, in their eyes and their speech, so maybe they know something he doesn’t.  But, if Cas is his, he doesn’t know how.

Six months in and Dean gets it. Gets it because Benny’s bitching for the tenth straight day that finding this angel is a waste of time and energy, that if an angel wanted finding it woulda been found by now.  He gets it because he knows Benny is right, but he doesn’t care.  Cas is his, and his alone, and he’s got to find him.  They all go home. They both go home. He tosses another log on the fire he’s finally managed to make and growls the same thing he always growls, “I said we find the angel, so we’re gonna find the angel.  Then we’ll go to your escape hatch; not before.” He doesn’t sleep, they’ll be moving in another hour, but he feels the hole in his chest, checks to make sure Benny hasn’t decided to run him through because it hurts so much.  Maybe it ain’t healthy, and maybe he should be different, but he recognizes this; it’s similar to what he felt right before he dealt away his soul for Sammy.  Figures, right when he’d be willing, there’s not a crossroads in sight.

He prays now. It shoulda been the first sign, he reckons. It takes faith to pray and it takes love to have faith, at least for him.  Every night since Cas was taken and he was left with a pack of guerrilla wolves, he’s shot out a prayer, hoping, having faith, that Cas would hear and come back if he could.  Every prayer includes something to tell Cas where they are, mentions Benny so Cas can find him instead.  Benny hears him because it’s hard to know sometimes if he’s saying things out loud or just in his head, but he doesn’t say anything about it anymore.

“What d’you want the angel for anyway?” Benny seems to think they’ve gotten to the point where he can ask questions, and Dean thinks maybe he isn’t wrong anymore.

He keeps sharpening the knife and shakes his head, “It’s not about want, and it’s never been about what I want.  Ain’t wanted anything but my brother safe and alive since the day I was six and he was two.” Dean uses the back of his sleeve, probably it’s dirtier than his face but they haven’t seen the river in a month so it’ll have to do, and wipes his face off. “I need that angel and I’m gonna get him. I always get him back.”

Castiel stays by the river; he knows Dean and his companion haven’t found the river in months.  He hunches over himself every night, hears every single one of Dean’s daily prayers…Wishes both that Dean would pray more and that he’d quit praying altogether.  In the last week he’s almost flown to Dean over a dozen times, usually as he tosses out prayers mid-battle.  Those are the worst; everything in him sings out to join Dean and fight beside him. It’s his duty to protect and serve and save because he may be an angel again, but he hasn’t been an angel of the Lord in many years. 

He knows what it is that drives him to stay away.  His reason is black and oozing and plummets from the sky with barely a moment’s warning.  Castiel feels himself tear in two, both sides reasoning that he needs to protect Dean with all he has ever been. If Dean is threatened by black and fast and sharp, Castiel finally compromises, he will take wing and be by the hunter’s side once more.  If he prayed to anyone other than Dean, he might pray for that day never to come.

Dean’s never thought of himself as being very much, or even thought of himself as being just enough for anyone.  So the realization that he can love not one but two people with all that he is comes as a surprise.  He loves Sammy with every breath in his body and Cas with all the blood in his veins and he finds that after all that, he’s yet to use himself up.  John never bothered to teach him about warm fuzzies and cold pricklies, but Dean remembers Lisa teasing Ben about them, and he thinks he understands better now.

He chuckles to himself and Benny raises an eyebrow but the meaning seems to get lost when Dean tries to explain.  Benny listens to his whole story about how it’s better to give out the love you have than to hoard it away and when he’s done, nods and mutters, “Th’ heart don’t know th’ meaning of quit.”  Dean nods and claps a hand to Benny’s shoulder because it’s so good to know he might be going crazy, but at least he won’t be going alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this as is, but it feels unfinished.


End file.
